Friday, March 13, 2020

THE FRIDAY FUNNIES

Dear Gentle Readers, if you're like me you've been struggling through another week, full of dire news about the coronavirus, the stock market, cancellations of virtually all events where people gather together and contradictory statements from "the people in charge".

And then we wake up this morning and learn that it is Friday the 13th!


I've got admit, I had never heard of a thundershirt and had to have my humor supplier, Wacky Wally, explain it to me.

But anyway, after a week like that, we all need a little levity so here goes.












And then there's this one, a little off the subject but it tickled me.


So that's it, ladies and gentlemen.

Now without alliteration but with all the hope and grins I can offer, have yourselves a great weekend.

And always remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(. . . everyone wants to get in on the act . . .)


Thursday, March 12, 2020

WET WEATHER

Wet and wetter.




Wednesday, March 11, 2020

Monday, March 9, 2020

A TALE OF A TREE

You frequent readers of Oddball Observations have followed our adventures with the avian visitors to our back yard, and to our bird bath.

You may recall that there used to be a fairly tall though fragile tree next to it which gave the birdies a place to perch whilst waiting their turn to get a drink or, horror of horrors, actually take a bath.

If your minds have not been permanently altered by reading my observations through the years you may recall the sad day late last July when we lost that tree.

If you don't recall that tragic event you can renew your memories by reading about it here.

If you're back now I will remind you that SWMBO had a brainstorm involving buying an artificial tree and planting it where the real tree had once towered so the birdies could eventually once again have a place to perch whilst waiting their turn . . . well, you know.

So a small artificial tree was procured and "planted".

Now let me tell you of the wisdom of doing such a thing in a part of the country where the wind frequently blows like crazy!

Here is the bird perch today.

(It's windy, by the way.)


You may be able to tell that that poor excuse for natural flora has been stripped of great quantities of it's fake leaves.

That is not fake news.

Here, and at other locations scattered around the yard, is the proof.


SWMBO has expressed a Panglossian (damn, I love that word!) view that she will somehow rescue the scattered leaves and restore them to that ridiculous stub.

My more pragmatic view is the one I expressed when the original tree blew down.

Never tweak the Weather Gods.

Sunday, March 8, 2020

GUEST BLOGGER

She's back.  

SWMBO (Judith Taylor) writes today about the food of her childhood:

Produce

When I was growing up in the middle of Indiana we lived on a four acre family compound consisting of my grandparents' house down a long lane toward the creek and our house up by the road.

We grew much of what we ate.  

Today, for some reason, I started thinking of all the things we took for granted.  

There were many trees that produced cherries, pears, yellow apples, red apples, paw-paws, peaches and  persimmons.  

There were also Concord grapes on an arbor and blackberries and raspberries in a briar patch.  

Asparagus and rhubarb came up spring after spring.

Then the hard work started as soon as the weather warmed a bit.  

Huge gardens were planted.  

Salads grew in our back yard, consisting of leaf lettuce, green onions, radishes, cucumbers and tomatoes.

We also planted old dependables: yellow onions, green peas, green beans, white potatoes, sweet corn, pumpkins, squash and cabbage.

Although they weren't on our four acres, if we went back into the woods in the spring we could sometimes luck out with a discovery of a big bunch of morel mushrooms which my mother would dip in beaten egg and flour and fry in lard.  

It was hard to wait for them to reach the table.

Throughout the summer, as things came ready, we canned everything that could be canned, looking forward to the long winter.

Pears and peaches were preserved in a light sugar syrup and my grandmother would drop a few Red-Hot candies into the jars of pears before they were sealed.  

They made the pears slightly pink and yummy looking.

Apples became applesauce before canning.  

Grape juice was bottled, but never became wine.  

Persimmons were turned into pulp and made into pudding later.  

Cucumbers became pickles and were saved in big crocks with heavy lids.

The root cellar at grandmother's house held bushel baskets filled with potatoes, apples and onions.

Bees made all the honey we could consume, right there in the orchard.

And we were considered poor.

OH, LORRAINE!


My favorite cook, SWMBO, made a Quiche Lorraine for our Sunday brunch meal today.


If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was French.

Saturday, March 7, 2020

TOWNES VAN ZANDT

I learned from reading The Writer's Almanac by Garrison Keillor that the legendary Texas song writer and performer, Townes Van Zandt, was born on this day in 1944.

One of his most well-known songs is Pancho and Lefty, which was recorded by (among others) Willy Nelson and Merle Haggard.

Before we hear it, though, listen to Van Zandt himself telling how he came to write it.




Townes was a troubled man, suffering from what is now known as bipolarism and addicted to alcohol and various illicit drugs.

He died on New Year's Day in 1997, at the age of 52.

In this video of Pancho and Lefty, he can be seen several times in cameos.